


Bet Your Ass

by vanessa_cardui



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bets & Wagers, F/F, Mild Humiliation, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Toys, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 03:01:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13309044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanessa_cardui/pseuds/vanessa_cardui
Summary: Ten years ago, Becca beat Riley out for valedictorian.  Riley's gone on to bigger and better things, but when they're both back in town for their reunion, Becca decides it's time to settle up for their old bet, using technology that wasn't available when they were in high school.





	Bet Your Ass

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Prinzenhasserin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prinzenhasserin/gifts).



Riley might have gone over the top, just a little bit. But it wasn't like she had to throw out the jewelry after the reunion, and it wasn't like she couldn't afford it. The heels hurt a little, but they looked really damn good. High school hadn't exactly ended on a high note, but she'd gone on to better things, and there wasn't any reason not to show everyone that. And they'd noticed. Mostly the guys, but there'd definitely been a few sidelong looks from some of the girls who hadn't expected Riley to do quite as well as she had.

Not from Becca Cho, though. She'd beaten Riley out for valedictorian, maybe, but she didn't seem to have done much with it. She looked a little rounder at the edges than she had. A lot like a suburban mom, and not one who was pulling in the Riley's sort of salary. If there'd been one glimmer of jealousy there. . . if Riley had even been able to fool herself into thinking there'd been a flicker of jealousy there, the reunion would've been a complete success. As it was, she had a more of the punch than she should've, which meant that she had to go pee more often than was dignified. In the same bathrooms that they'd had when they were in school--the stalls were even still painted the same ugly brown that they'd always been. It brought back memories, some of which Riley didn't want to have brought back.

She was on the toilet when Becca came in with a group or her friends. Riley sat very still while they finished up. Back in the girls' bathroom behind the gym, she wasn't feeling nearly as confident as she had been out in the gym, telling people about how she'd spent a couple of years at the London office, and her recent transfer back to the Bay Area, which was lovely, because she'd be able to see her parents more often and all. When they left, she'd fix her makeup a little, and stop drinking so damn much, and get an Uber back to the hotel. She'd--

"And did you see Riley Andrews?" said someone. One of the girls who'd done model UN and so on with Becca. Maybe Sophie Bridger, who was a lawyer or something like that?

"Oh my god," said someone else. "I mean, seriously--that stuff was Tiffany. Do you think she can actually afford it?"

"Well," said Sophie, and that was definitely Sophie. "You can put a lot of things on a credit card, and then take them back when you're done impressing people."

They laughed, but Becca spoke up, cutting through the laughter. "If she brought them, she owns them. Riley always pays her debts."

"You hated her," said Sophie.

"She got under my skin," said Becca. "But that doesn't mean that she'd cheat, or that she'd fail to pay what she owed."

"I don't mean that she's stealing them," said Sophie. "Just that she could be planning on returning them, after wearing them."

The argument continued as Becca and her friends left. Riley sat there until they were gone, and went back out. And there, hidden in the corner where the mirrors hung down over the sink, there was a small cardboard box, with "As I recall, you lost a bet," written on it in Becca's sharp little handwriting.

She had lost a bet. A bet that she definitely shouldn't have made, because it made losing out as valedictorian to Becca even worse than it already was, only then, she got the trip to Paris anyway, and then she had to get on campus at Yale as soon as she was back, so she hadn't thought about it since. Well, not really. Honestly, given how often Becca won those bets, she shouldn't have been making them in the first place. But she'd been sure. . . .

Riley opened the little cardboard box. There was a silicone egg in it. It was way to big to be something that she was supposed to swallow, and--

It buzzed in her hand. Just a little bit, just enough to let her know what it was for.

Son of a bitch. That wasn't even fair. They hadn't had remote-controlled vibrators when they were in high school.

And yet. And yet a bet was a bet, and she'd lost, and she'd be damned if she was going to give Becca Cho the satisfaction of knowing that she'd won, and she'd won so hard that Riley Andrews couldn't even pay up. She didn't even go back to the stall. Just pulled her underwear down, relaxed as best as she could, pushed it in, pulled back up, and headed back out to the party.

If Brandon Levitt hadn't spiked the punch with some bullshit artisanal vodka, and if Riley hadn't had as much of it as she had, she might not have been able to manage that. It was kind of big, for one thing, and she'd been trying to show off to everyone who'd come back for the reunion, and that was hard to do when the vibrator went on every five minutes, hard enough to make her have to hold onto something and bite her lip, and try not to fall over or start orgasming while some jackoff who'd been on the football team tried to sell her term life insurance.

Fortunately, Becca hadn't managed to slip her that fucking thing until they were mostly done with the party. Riley felt like her legs had turned into rubber bands and noodles within fifteen minutes, but nobody seemed terribly shocked when she excused herself, and nobody noticed when instead of getting an Uber, she went and hid under the bleachers. Well, nobody except for Becca, who gave her a long smile as she said her goodbyes, and fiddled with something in her purse which made that stupid vibrator go on strong enough that if the music hadn't been too loud, everyone in the gym would've heard it.

Once she got where they used to meet, Riley curled up in a ball. It was a fifteen hundred dollar cocktail dress, and it was getting dirt and cigarette butts and spilled beer on it, and that vibrator wasn't shutting off. She clenched, and twisted, and did her very best not to orgasm. She couldn't, not without losing another bet, and she damn well wasn't going to do that.

When the vibrator shut off, Riley felt like a puppet whose strings had finally been cut. She collapsed, spread out on the ground under the bleachers, trying to get control of her breathing, trying to come back from where she'd been.

Becca laughed, behind her. "Well, at least you won the side bet. Maybe next time you'll do better, but. . . well, based on past performance, not the way to bet."

"I'm doing fine," said Riley. "Just fine."

"Sure you are," said Becca. "But if you want to collect your winnings for holding it together, up on your feet, facing the field."

That was the way they'd done it. It was a little harder to lean through the steps of the bleachers so that she could see the football field. It was lit up, because whenever they had a thing at the school, they'd light up the field--the point of a reunion was to get people to give them money, and since football was what people remembered fondly, they did their best to make them think about it.

It seemed that it had worked. Brandon and a couple of the other guys were out there throwing a football around. They were wearing suits, and more than half of them had more gut than they had during high school. If they happened to look over in her direction. . . 

They never had when it was team practice, back when they were in school. They would if she was too loud, but they couldn't see into the shadows under the bleachers. Becca slapped Riley's ass, hard--she'd always hit hard, it wasn't ever a game to her, not really--and Riley bit her lip to keep from moaning when Becca touched her through her underwear. There wasn't any way on earth she was going to give her that satisfaction. Not now, not when she was almost done.

"Well," said Becca. "Looks like you've been enjoying yourself."

That wasn't fair. Anyone would respond to a vibrator in their pussy like that. But Riley didn't argue. She'd lost the bet, and she wanted. . . well, she wanted, was the thing.

Becca pushed Riley's dress up over her hips, and pulled down her panties, which were slick and wet and heavy and probably ruined, and they'd cost like three hundred bucks, and--

She gasped, and moaned a little, as Becca slid her hand over her pussy. "Waxed, huh," she said. "Well, it's always nice when you make yourself pretty for me." Riley bucked against Becca's hand, not able to respond, not able to argue. She'd won the side-bet, she hadn't come until she was under the bleachers, she'd earned--

Becca took her hand away, and Riley bit back an angry yelp. She was close, she was so close, and it had been so long. But she'd bet that she was going to do better than Becca senior year, and she'd gotten an A- in BC calculus, so even though they'd both gotten a five on the AP. . . Becca was writing something across Riley's ass. It felt like a marker. Which wasn't something that that had been in the bet, but at that point, Riley wasn't really in a position to argue.

"There," said Becca, when she was done. "Now that you're moving back here, call me up. What with the boys and all, we could use a girl to come in to do some housework once or twice a week. And you always did want to suck Frank's dick."

"That's not--" then Riley gasped hard, as the vibrator went back on, and Becca's hand went back on her pussy. She wasn't . . . she didn't want . . . the only thing she wanted then was to keep from shouting loud enough to get Brandon and those other idiots to come over. She came harder than she had, in all the years since the last time she'd lost a bet to Becca. Her feet clenched hard, in those heels, and waves of pleasure ran through her, over and over. Becca didn't turn the vibrator off, when Riley slid wetly off of her hand. Just looked down at her, lying in the dirt under the bleachers, as she spasmed, over and over.

"Here," she said, dropping the control on her. "You're going to have to pay that off, of course."

Then she left, completely confident, back to her mini-van and her stupid life.

It took a little while before Riley figured out the controls on the vibrator, and turn it off, and it took a little longer before she was able to stand back up; her underwear was going to be a write off, and there were definitely a couple of tears in the dress. And when she got up, she used her phone to take a picture of her ass.

It was a phone number and an email address. And she wasn't going to do anything with either of those, ever. Only, when she was in the Uber back to the airport, Riley looked at that picture again. Because it was a pretty good vibrator, after all. And whether or not Becca Cho was a smug jerk, Riley paid her debts.


End file.
